things unchangeable
by suteras
Summary: it is a funeral fit for the hero that Rush was.


_There are so many people in need of a helping hand out there. _

_If you come across these people, please hear them out. Helping those in need will help you, too. You will gain so much from it. _

_The power to strengthen your will. _

_Friends who will risk their lives for you. _

_History. _

_Truth. _

_Hope, fear, hate. _

_You will experience many things, both good and bad, and they will help you grow as a person. I know you will take them to heart...and thus, I know you will be able to control your fate. _

_We shall meet here again...someday._

* * *

The first thing that David wishes to do is scream.

He wants to yell and _rage_ and _cry_; he wants to release the emotions bubbling inside of him because there is no _end_ to them and without any sort of release, he's sure he'll _explode_ and he's not even sure _how_ he'll act; he'll only know sorrow and frustration and a terrible _yearning_.

He thinks about all the things that he could've done, _should've_ done to prevent that inevitable demise. He should've sent someone to watch over the Conqueror, he should've tried to _fight_, to try and back up Irina somehow so that such a sacrifice shouldn't have had to happen. He should've _beheaded_ the Conqueror the moment he had fallen, so as to _ensure_ their victory.

He should've done a lot of things.

The Four Generals hover uncertainly around him; he notices their worried looks, their sorrowful gazes. He notices how they keep civilians away from him, and he appreciates that, in a distant sense. He cannot muster up the energy to try and thank them, but they should know. They always know.

The rest of the party, their _companions_, are unsure of what to do with themselves as well. A few leave immediately: Nora's scream of pure _rage_ (or, perhaps, it'd been _agony_) had previously gone unnoticed, but people part for her as soon as she storms away; Caedmon's departure is far quieter, slipping away into the mass of individuals as well as Allan; Wyngale is muttering to himself and David cannot exactly catch it as he departs; Jager is long gone and Loki is _swearing_ as he goes. Others, like the Duke of Ghor, Haruko, Paris and Roberto, are attempting to restore order, which is something Elysion and the entire _world_ needs right now. David imagines that the balance will be tilted, now that Remnants are gone, but he cannot find it within himself to care at this exact moment.

Irina stays within the Ark room with Khrynia, Glenys, Rhagoh, Sheryl, and Violet, and David respects her decision. He imagines he'll be far more worried if she is to be alone.

"Lord David…" Emmy's voice is soft and he doesn't turn to face her. He feels her hand gentle upon his shoulder, and he closes his eyes, unsure of whether he'll snap at her or scream or just start _hurting_ something but he somehow manages to steel himself, somehow manages to beat down the sorrow and _agony_ wailing from the depths of his being, and he opens his eyes once more.

"Right." He says, and it is a numb tone. "Let us return to Athlum."

They went to face the Conqueror with so many people, and David only wishes they came back with the same number.

* * *

The events following pass in a blur.

Dukes come and go and he converses and plans with them robotically. His closest companions attempt to talk to him, but he makes himself so busy that there is no time to. The world is slowly rebuilding itself, and he throws himself into the problems that arise, the things that need to be _fixed_ now that there are no Remnants. There are many things to busy himself with, and it lasts for a good amount of weeks, enough to push back the sorrow and focus on the future that Rush has brought them all.

Emmy is persistent in keeping him company, along with Blocter. She tries to get him to go out, but he declines repeatedly, attempting to be as polite as possible without losing his strangely sensitive temper. Pagus stays with him at night, the soothing feel of his Mystic Arts the only thing keeping the nightmares at bay.

Torgal visits him once, and his are the only words that linger in the back of his mind.

_Have you grieved yet, Lord David?_

He hasn't answered him yet. He doesn't think he needs to. Torgal has known him since he has been a baby, has been with him while his mother died and while his father's life was taken by the Gae Bolg. Perhaps that is response enough.

Irina and her family are helping out around the Academy, presumably to research technologies that will replace the Remnants. He sends messages occasionally, and he's glad that she responds; she details how exactly they're working to support the world, how they're trying to deal with the imbalance now that the Elysion Remnant is gone. He writes back that he trying to settle things with the other Lords, figuring out plans to settle the populace and restore order in light of these recent events.

They both don't mention the loss, but it is palpable between the lines.

* * *

He doesn't hear of the funeral before Pagus finally mentions it to him.

He's not sure what to think of it at first, because what can they even _do_ to honour a sacrifice of that _magnitude_? He can't answer either, because the very _finality_ of such an ordeal is... he cannot find the words. Still, he supposes that they can _try_ at the very least, and he hesitantly begins to bring up ideas but Pagus mentions that it's already been prepared and is to happen within two weeks. Perhaps there's offence that he's not been allowed to participate in organizing it, but realizes that his Generals have probably been doing it _for_ him, as well _as_ Rush, wrapped up as he has been in Congress matters.

_He'll think it's absolutely mint, young master!_

Blocter's words make David crack a smile, and that's all the signal they need for it to go ahead.

* * *

It takes place on Eulam.

He finds it is a memorial, more than anything else, because they do not exactly have a… they do not have a _body_ to _bury_. The weather is nice and _fresh_, the waves of the beach calming and cool and David laments the fact that Rush couldn't show him around himself for while the island _is_ small as Rush has said, he sees the arching paths, the beach stretching around presumably to loop, and the distant buildings of the people that inhabit this place. He remembers a promise pertaining to such a tour, and the permanent lump in his throat grows bigger.

He's the first to arrive, and so is the first to see the stone erected at the cliff. There are flowers—some of them Irina's favourite, some of them _Rush's_ favourite, David learns—and there is the name engraved above a dominating image of a Ramskull upon the front. Right below it are the insignias of each of the cities, and in the middle, the biggest of these, is Athlum's. And below _that_…

_A Beloved Son and Brother  
An Awesome Friend  
A True Hero._

David's vision blurs, and he cannot help but give a choked laugh at the middle line. Most likely Khrynia had a hand in that.

"Rush would like it." Irina's voice is quiet, and he cannot help but nod in agreement.

And then, the guests start arriving.

There are boats of different colours, each small for they carry only the corresponding Lord's personal guard and themselves. Eulam hardly seems big enough for such a large reception, but he's sure everyone will fit. Everyone will _want_ to, after all.

The proceedings are casual—how everyone sat is _more_ so. Settled upon the soft grass, listening to the hum of the breeze and the calm of the ocean waves—it is something _normal_ and he imagines it _is_ just how Rush would want it. He never did like noble decorum after all, and David _is_ admittedly getting a small kick out of seeing the Dukes be so horrified at being told to sit on the ground save Duke Qubine and Duke Ghor.

Every single person here is someone that Rush insisted they helped; David hadn't really given thought about how many people's lives Rush has touched or even _saved_ but it is apparent _here_, upon this small cliff where everyone sits. It is not orderly, and there is no proper start or finish to the memorial, something that has been done on _purpose_, he imagines, for Rush never has been the one to plan and do things with any ounce of formality, no matter who's presence he stands in.

There are those who had joined them on their journey, lined along the front. A few are missing, but David isn't surprised. He figures they are mourning and sending him off in their own way (or perhaps they are too proud to show themselves, whether or not they are grieving openly; he doesn't discount that possibility).

And… there is someone at the very side that David doesn't recognize. He can recall almost everyone here but… the woman in the back is an individual that he's sure he hasn't laid eyes on at all. Still, he knows he cannot presume to know every person that Rush has met.

After everyone settles, there is silence. David is not sure how everything will proceed, but his unvoiced query is answered as Irina gets up, standing before the grave and bowing her head. She is not crying, but he knows that there are tears brimming. He'd seen them when he first arrived.

Marina and John move to stand beside her, both of them embracing their daughter and tears are shedding now as they look upon the quiet grave before them; they don't seem to care who's looking on. The mother's tears are silent and she stands strong, a vigil for her husband and daughter. John is breathing hard, sobs already _shaking_ his frame and Irina—she breaks _down_, clinging to both her parents and her wails are loud and _heart-breaking_ and there's a _clench_ inside David, watching this sight of pure _sorrow_ but he finds he cannot cry yet.

He _wants_ to. There's the absolute _need_ to because he's just lost someone precious, someone who's changed his life for the _better_ and he _hates_ himself for not weeping as he _should_ be. He hears the soft crying of others around him; he sees Emmy in her gentle tears and Blocter loud in his sobs. Torgal and Pagus are quiet and still, but he knows that they will grieve later. For now, they opt to stay strong amidst the tragedy.

And then, he makes a decision.

He stands after a certain amount of time, has waited for the cries to die down to quiet sniffles, and Irina looks up in her parent's arms at his approach. Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy and there are relentless streaks of tears down her features but she still manages to put forth a query.

"M-Mr. David…?"

His response is brief and sincere. "May I say a few words?"

Marina answers him, and her voice is not as strong as he remembers it. "We would love that."

There is already a speech coming to mind, as there always is when he addresses the people of Athlum. However, this is _far_ different, he _knows_ this. Taking a deep breath, he steels his features, his emotions and his _voice_ before he turns to the small sea of people, and begins to speak.

He stays strong throughout his speech. His voice does not waver as much as he thinks it should've, and his shoulders are held with pride in his words, with pride at the memory of _knowing_ Rush at all. He speaks of his endeavours, his achievements and the _heart_ Rush had, the effort he put into making other's happy and the effort he put into keeping his friends and family safe. He recalls Rush's smile, the angry pout he would sometimes have, the _passion_ that would go into fighting and protecting loved ones, and his heart _aches_ with an old grief.

_Have you grieved yet, Lord David?_

The words echo in his mind as he finishes, and he feels that crescendo rising in his chest even as the hum of the seaside replaces the fading vestiges of his voice. It is the turmoil that he's ignored and pushed down in the favour of being strong but he knows he doesn't _need_ to be strong for this. Not now. Not when… not when his memory of Rush deserves _more_.

He wishes, suddenly, that he can hear Rush's voice one last time, calling him by that nickname with such a vibrant tone.

He breathes a little faster, his chest clenches tighter and he can feel his balance _wavering_, becoming a _fleeting_ thing and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Torgal begin to move toward him but he doesn't think about _that_ right now; he doesn't see the crowd before him, the silent sobs of the Sykes behind him and the sorrowful gazes of his Generals, nor does he feel his knees buckling and the soft grass felt beneath his clenching hands. He doesn't care how many people are watching, he doesn't care how hard he _falls_ or _breaks_ in front of them but he wants—no, he _needs_ to—!

_The name's Rush… Rush Sykes! Who're you?_

_I am David Nassau, the Marquis of Athlum. You may address me as David._

_Sure thing, Dave!_

–He screams.

* * *

"Rush Sykes was… someone that tried to befriend nearly everyone he met."

_You have met many people on your journey who have helped you grow._

"He was someone that would offer a helping hand when you needed it, and was persistent in nature when he knew you were trying to ignore it. He never knew when to stop, even when told to in the harshest of manners, and that's… that was probably a good thing for most people."

_ In return, you have given them something very valuable. Something they will treasure for always. It is hard to describe in words what exactly you have bestowed upon others..._

"It didn't really matter how hard the task was, nor tedious. Rush was… almost always excited to do it. He, ah, _rushed_ into it without any second thought. There's no doubt in my mind that he did it just for whatever reward would come afterward, but because he truly _desired_ to help people."

_Allow me to try to explain myself..._

"I remember when I first met him. I thought he was naïve, simple. However, there was so much more to him than I could've dreamed, more than I had _imagined_. There was a depth to his heart that not many are born with, and that was what made him special."

_The skies may gray, the oceans may disappear, and the earth may rot._

"When everyone was told to stand down in the face of the Conqueror's threat, he immediately rebelled. He was ready to go against the Conqueror completely alone and I truly thought he was mad. He didn't want to take anyone with him, for fear of dragging them into unnecessary danger that he'd start himself, and… and he _knew_ he probably wouldn't make it out alive. He was fully aware of the risk he was putting himself in, but he wanted to charge right on ahead anyway."__

_But not even the freest of birds, the most hopeful of fish, the wisest of men..._

"He wasn't one to listen to rules—the only thing that reigned true in his mind was the safety of those he considered precious to himself. He didn't care what happened to him—the happiness of those around him was what was important to him. His courage reminded me—reminded _everyone_—what truly is important in this world: our friends and our families. Protecting them… protecting them is something we should stay _true_ to, no _matter_ the cost."

_No sight, no sound, no feeling can ever surpass the gift you granted those people. _

"Let us… let us remember Rush. Let us remember how he gave himself selflessly to our troubles, how he died to give us peace and prosperity. Let us remember who he was in spirit and in character."

_In that moment, you left behind something that will last for eternity. _

"Let us remember that he was a friend, a brother, a son. But most of all…"

_Something only you could have given them... _

"Rush Sykes… was a hero."

_And that is what will mold your destiny._

"May he rest in peace."


End file.
